


Moran's Girls

by darkerhue



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Exasperated Sebastian, He should just stop trying to date, Possessive Jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-03 02:31:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkerhue/pseuds/darkerhue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moriarty doesn't like to share his sniper and poor Sebastian can't seem to keep a girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Poor Emily

**1 – Poor Emily**

"Well fuck. I knew there had to be something wrong." Emily Mason, girlfriend to the second most dangerous man in Briton, laughed humourlessly. On the living room floor of the rather expensive flat lay Sebastian Moran and 'Jim'. The latter, currently pinned under the muscled form of Sebastian, glanced away in what seemed to be embarrassment at being caught in the act. Sebastian looked like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing comically.

"Wait! Emily! It's not … It's … Christ, Jim! Fucking stop!" He scrambled to his feet in a feeble attempt to avoid the small hip movements beneath him. The small table near the end of the couch shook when his body connected with it, nearly sending the antique lamp to the floor. Emily's eyes darted down his person, widened, then narrowed to such an absurd degree she may as well closed them.

"It's not what, 'Bastian? It's not what it looks like? Because you seem pretty damn happy about whatever this is!" She gestured to the general area of his more erect parts.

"What? No! Fuck … no! I'm not … this isn't … Emily!" he spluttered. Emily stormed around the flat gathering what few possessions she had started to leave after four months of dating him. Jim was standing by now, trying to grab Sebastian's arm as he trailed after her.

"Sebbie," She scoffed at that; he never let anyone call him Sebbie. "Sebbie calm down! She was going to find out soon anyway!" He shrugged the smaller man off. Strong, calloused hands gently grabbed her shoulders, slowly rubbing them.

"Emily, please, let me explain. He tried to wake me up and I was startled. We fell, baby." Another scoff, "I'm not gay. Common, please, stay. He's leaving now." He gave Jim a pointed look. Emily's shoulders slowly relaxed and she took a deep, calming breath. He smiled at her and was about to lean in for a kiss when Jim whispered into his ear.

"Remove your hands, Sebbie darling." He did so without hesitation, the instantaneous compliance to Jim's commands driven too far into his subconscious to ignore. The Irishman's tone had turned just dark enough to make the point; stop playing games and do as I say. Said man grinned at the quick action, eyes flashing with glee. Emily, of course, paid no mind to the tone of the command and only noticed Sebastian's frighteningly fast response. Shoulders tensing again, she stepped out of Sebastian's embrace.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." A painting fell from the wall as the door slammed behind her. Sebastian stared at the door with a dumb look on his face.

"Well, that was certainly interesting. I'm sorry Seb."

"No you're not."

"You're right! I'm not. Make me tea." Jim flounced over to the couch and watched as his choice sniper muttered under his breath and shuffled to the kitchen. He caught the low voice mumble about 'fucking games' and 'fucking psychopaths' and, his favourite so far, 'fucking Moriarty.'

"Temper, temper!" he sing-songed. A warm orange-red light streamed into the flat through the wall-to-wall windows opposite the door. Jim closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of it as he considered his next words, quickly determining which phrases would bother Sebastian the most. "Girls don't like dirty mouths, Seb. You'll never find someone if you keep that nasty habit up."

The tea cup barely missed Jim's head, smashing into the lamp beside him.


	2. Miss Claire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You should know better than to dirty Sebbie's floor. Shame on you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Sebbie is supposed to have blond hair. My vision of Sebastian, however, does not. Maybe this is because I myself have blonde and get bored looking at it, but I think it's more likely because I am more attracted to men with dark hair. It's probably both.

Early morning light shone into the modestly sized bedroom of 23A, streaming across the dark oak desk and plush cream carpet. It warmed the discarded clothing strewn about the floor and finally came to rest upon two sleeping figures, their limbs entwined. The floor creaked beside the lady, causing her to stir slightly. She sighed and unconsciously turned towards the disturbance. Had she opened her eyes, she would have seen a dark figure loom over her. The finely tailored Westwood suit would have been bathed in light as the wearer's face studied her in contempt. He thought he had made his point with the last slut taking up Sebastian's time. Jim did him a favour, really. Emily had become a distraction. It looked like this new girl, Claire Ashdown according to his quick search of her purse, was going to be another. He could smell the sex in the room; it was just as easy to see it on them. Sebastian's hair was full of the little signs of female hands run through it; the particular way it grouped together in front, the tousled sides where she had clung to the roots. It disgusted him. Claire, on the other hand, bore more visible marks of the previous night. Little red marks dotted the side of her neck visible to him and a light yellowing of a minor bruise starting to form on her breast. Sebastian never did know his own strength. She was going to be a distraction.

\-----------------------  
Sebastian darted his hand under the bed, grasped the semi-automatic attached to the frame, and swung his arm up to aim at the bedroom door. Claire started beside him.

"What is it? Sebas ... is that a gun?" She scooted away from him, eyes wide and staring at weapon in his hand.

"Yes, and it's nothing. I thought someone closed the door," he glanced quickly at her before stashing the gun back under the bed, flicking the straps to secure it again. "It's alright, just there for safety." He drew her to his side.

"Who on earth would want to hurt you? You're such a nice guy!" She hugged his side and kissed his shoulder. Sebastian gave a low chuckle, thinking of all the diplomats he'd gotten rid of for his boss.

"How about some breakfast, yeah?" He asked, giving her one last kiss before standing.

"You have beans?"

"Of course"

"I'll make the toast." He shook his head at her.

"No, you take a shower. It'll be ready when you're finished." She smiled and bounced across the room to do as he suggested. Once the sound of running water reached his ears, Sebastian dressed and started to make their breakfast. His phone beeped as he brought a ban out of the cupboard, the sound calling him into the living room. He walked over to where it lay, grimacing when the sunlight hit his eyes.

Eric Twinny, McCroy's Pub. Now. read the text. It was obvious who had sent it; not many of his contacts dared to order him in such a way. His eyes, once dull with the remnants of sleep, cleared and hardened. He called to Claire as he strode to the coat closet.

"I'm going out, Claire. I'll be back in a few hours." He received no answer. Shrugging, Sebastian opened the false back of the closet, picked out his best rifle, and left to do as he was bid.

\------------------------------  
She loved the feel of the warm water running through her hair. Sebastian was special, she thought. A bit different, yes, but then what man was like another? He seemed like a kind man, though. They had met when she dropped her groceries in the parking lot a few weeks ago. She had been instantly smitten with him. She giggled, remembering his surprised face when she finally agreed to sleep with him. Not that he'd been pressuring her, per say. But she could tell the expectation was there.

"Oh Sebastian, you'll be the death of me, I think," she said, poking at hand-shaped bruise on her breast.

"He is rather good at killing, isn't he?" She screamed, throwing herself against the back of the stall. There, just on the other side of the glass, stood a man. He looked at her like a butcher would a still kicking cow. "I am sorry to give you such a terrible fright," he threw open the sliding door, "I know you've only met him, but really Claire Ashdown, it's not more than you deserve." She looked at him in terror, glancing down to see the large knife in his hand.

"Oh God, please ... please ... I'll leave, I swear! Please just don't ..."

"You will? Good, then I guess there's no reason for this." He smiled and threw the knife to the floor, stepping out of the way. Claire ran, almost slipping on the slick floor, and reached the bathroom door when the man spoke again, almost singing.

"Kidding! You're far too much of a distraction." And with one swift movement, he pulled a second knife from the back of his trousers, spun her around, and stabbed her heart. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes as she bled out beneath him.

"Tut tut, Miss Claire. You're getting blood all over Sebbie's expensive floor. I'll have to punish you for that, too!"

\----------------------------------  
Nothing was out of place when Sebastian returned from ending Mr. Twinny's successful business career, unless, of course, you counted the well dressed man sitting on his couch, watching crap telly. Sebastian paused in the doorway, only moderately surprised to see his boss there. He walked over to him and dumped the duffle bag containing his rifle next to the table.

"Boss." Jim looked up at him and gave a little grin before turning his attention back to the telly.

"Where's the girl?"

"Who?"

"Claire, sir. I left her here earlier. Where is she?" Jim grinned and patted the space next to him.

"She wasn't very happy with you, leaving her here for hours. God knows what kind of trouble could have found her." Sebastian sighed, spotting little blood drops on Jim's neatly pressed shirt.

"Fuck. I'm never getting laid again, am I, sir?" No response. He sighed again and flopped onto the couch, slouching like a put out child. "You better've fucking cleaned up after yourself."


	3. Dearest Sophie, bless her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally forgot I hadn't finished posting this fic up here, so here's chapter 3! So sorry! Goodness o.o  
> This one is unedited, no rewrite, so please let me know if you see any mistakes!

Sebastian was starting to become very annoyed with his employer. He could handle the ‘Morning Friend’ incident; Jim enjoyed making him squirm in every possible sense of the word. He could even be ok with the random murder in his shower (he had cleaned up when he was done, after all). But this was really going too far. Jim had refused leave his side for weeks. Sure, he had never been within a 3 meter radius, but he was always there. When he opened the living room curtains in the morning, Jim would be sitting on the bench across the street. When he went to the market for beans and milk, his boss, his boss, would stand two isles away looking at bread. He even went so far as to sit three tables away, sipping at some absurd fruity alcoholic concoction, while Sebastian had a few drinks at the pub. Then he disappeared. There was no more following, or stalking, depending on your definition. There were no more texts at three in the morning to go kill someone, lean on a diplomat, or to make him tea. It was like Jim Moriarty had never been in his life, and it was the most infuriating thing he had ever done to Sebastian.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“I work for a consultant. It’s not much, but it pays the rent. You know.” He gave the girl opposite him a small smile. The quaint café was in the quieter part of London. The low hum of vehicles and society thrummed behind the chatter of long lost friends and business meetings. The slow drizzle didn’t seem to be damping spirits; two elderly women two tables down chortled about a grandchild, the businessmen flailed their arms over some venture involving embezzled money, and his date smiled, reaching over to touch his hand.  
“Working for a consulting firm is amazing, I think. There are so many different jobs you could do!” She took a sip of tea. “Have you had many adventures? Strange or amazing things you’ve seen, because of your job of course.” She made a face, swallowing more air than liquid. He chuckled, said, “You could say that, yeah,” and ate a small biscuit.  
She looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate.  
“Do you remember that shore in Skegness I mentioned before?” He looked at her with his head slightly tilted to the side.  
“The one with the ‘magical fog’ and singing fish?” She giggled and blushed at his stare.  
“Yeah, that’s the one. That was during one of those consulting jobs. It’s amazing what’s around you if you just stop to watch.” His smile tighten a small amount as he added, because you had to lay in a tree for six hours waiting for the target to fucking show up, in his mind. This girl didn’t seem the type to enjoy knowing that particular aspect of his work.  
“You know, Sophie, I have some time off right now. We could go on a holiday … go to Ireland for an extended holiday …” He trailed off when she smiled apologetically and patted his hand.  
“I’m sorry, but we’ve only been on 4 dates, Sebastian. I don’t think I know you well enough yet.” Yes, she was definitely not the kind to want to know how he took care of people for Jim. He nodded his understanding and drank his water. A honking cab drew his attention to the street, reminding him of a certain criminal. He sighed and wondered where his psychopathic boss was. Sophie, mistaking his diverted attention for disappointment, rushed to make up for her refusal.  
“Oh, but tomorrow is Valentine’s Day! We could take a drive to the countryside, maybe that shore? We could stargaze if there aren’t too many clouds.” His eyes darted back to her.  
“Yeah, that sounds good. Sorry, I was just thinking of a friend. I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks.” Despite his best efforts, concern leaked its way into his tone. She gave him a sympathetic look, quickly checking her phone for the time.  
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry Seb! My break is almost done,” she said, rushing to pull some money from her wallet. “I really am sorry about you friend. I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually, though!” She stood and threw on her coat. Grabbing her umbrella, she bent down to give him a kiss on the cheek.  
“I’ll send you a text when I’m ready to leave tomorrow, ok? I have the day off, so we can spend most of the day there if you’d like.” He nodded and said goodbye as she ran through the puddles to catch a cab. He continued to sit at the table for a few hours; watching people come and go, generally enjoying the drizzly day.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The flat was empty when Sebastian returned. It was eerie, like someone was waiting around every corner and behind every door to jump him. After hanging his coat and checking the false back in the closet, Sebastian found himself sneaking down the hallway. His eyes tracked every shadow as he moved, lightly bumping each door and listening for the slightest shuffle of clothing. The lights were off in the bedroom, just as he left it. He swept the room for cameras; it would be just like Jim to cut off all contact for weeks just to see how he would react. There were none to be found, of course.  
“Where are you, Jim?” He breathed, casting his eyes around the grey room. He sighed. “Fuck it. If he’s not watching, I can get piss drunk.” He walked back to the kitchen, flicking on the light as he entered. A note waited for him on the liquor cabinet.  
Don’t you dare start drinking, Sebbie. The writing was downright elegant; Jim’s handwriting usually was when he wanted to make a point. I’ll have to punish you if you don’t listen. Sebastian stared at it before grunting and grabbed an unopened bottle of rum.  
“Fuck you.” He fell back onto the couch and kicked his feet up on the table. Another note sat on the remote.  
Yes please!  
He grunted again and turned on the T.V., fully intending to drink until he passed out watching crap telly. Jim was probably watching him right now, Sebastian thought. His face would be contorted in either rage or disgust; drinking had never made the most sense to Jim. It had been Jim who found him, initially. He had found Sebastian broke, drunk, and fucked up on bad drugs. “Tut, tut,” Jim had said, “Look at you. Sebastian Moran. You’re a shell.” The look in his eyes had been one of surprise and contempt. It pissed the sniper off. “I could help you, Sebbie. I could save you.” The way he drew out ‘save’ had turned Sebastian’s stomach; it reminded him of the way a lover would whisper in his ear. It was full of promises of pain and deceit. He’d be damned if it hadn’t turned his drug addled self on as well.  
He sighed harder this time and took a bigger drink from the bottle. Remembering their first meeting, and the subsequent killings and beatings, made him wonder why he was even bothering to meet with Sophie. He would get bored with her, he knew, but some part of him insisted on seeing her, talking with her. He felt different when she was around, like he became a bit less like Jim with each quick date. Tomorrow would be interesting, he thought. They’d be doing something so normal, so acceptable, in the very spot he had beaten and shot a man on Jim’s orders. Jim’s last orders. It could be almost poetic, if, indeed, Jim ended up not contacting him again. He could settle down with this girl. They could get married and have little brats. A new beginning could start where his last murder happened.  
The rum bottle emptied quickly after that. Sebastian passed out with thoughts of little Moran’s running around a bright house dancing in his mind. He didn’t notice the figure in the kitchen doorway, watching him. If he had, he certainly wouldn’t have been sober enough to see the strange glint appear in the figure’s dark eyes.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Sophie answered the knock at her door with a smile and a bounce. It was Valentine’s Day and she had been seeing a new guy. He seemed nice enough, although she could tell there was something dark about him. He just had that look. Sebastian generally didn’t talk much, either. The other day, sitting at that quiet little café, was the most he had ever spoken at once. She didn’t mind; some people were just like that. She was sure that, given enough time, he would come to trust her with his ghosts.  
The delivery man was a small guy; he was about her height. The baseball cap he wore shadowed his face as he handed her a clipboard and a form to sign.  
“Do you know who it’s from?” She asked, looping her signature around the designated line.  
“Says here it’s from a ‘Sebastian Moran’.” He chewed, open mouthed, on his gum as they swapped the clipboard for a small package he held. Her smile grew at the name; Sebastian really was a nice man.  
“Thank you…”  
“Jim.” He pointed at the nametag attached to his uniform.  
“Ah, yes. Thank you, Jim! Happy Valentine’s!” He nodded, grinned, and walk back down the hallway. A girlish scream reached his ears as his foot touched the first step to the first floor. His grin widened. As far as this ‘Sophie’ was concerned, Sebastian had just sent her a real human heart as an early morning Valentine’s Day gift.  
And Sophie, dearest, sweetest Sophie, never contacted Sebastian again. Bless the poor girl.


	4. Fingerless Susan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another I didn't go back through before posting, so if you see any mistakes please drop me a line!

James Moriarty was a proud man. He had mastered advanced calculus by the fifth grade, held four black belts in various martial arts disciplines by the end of eighth grade, and ran a very successful 'consulting firm' at the young age of sixteen. He was most proud, however, of his appearance. Obviously, his employee's attire and poise was included in that. Who would properly respect and fear him if he sent slobs? Suits, ties, shined shoes; all were part of the required dress if you wanted to be employed under Moriarty. Everyone followed this unspoken rule. Everyone, that is, except one Sebastian Moran.  
He would scoff at the expensive suits Jim laid out for him, saying, "Do you want a sniper or a fucking doll?" and proceed to throw on his faded jeans, white undershirt, and bomber jacket, and stride out the door to go shoot some poor sod in the temple. Anyone else would have died for speaking to him like that, but Jim liked him. Eventually, after several sets of Sebastian's wardrobe had been burned or otherwise destroyed beyond repair, they came to an agreement. Sebastian could wear whatever he wanted, disgusting military boots and all, if he let Jim manage his hair. If Jim wanted to pin it back with barrettes, well, Sebastian would just have to put up with it. He was to fully accept any change or addition to his hair, no questions asked. It was understood that only the two men were allowed to muss his hair, and only in the privacy of the flat. Jim had been understanding of Seb's little flings; they'd romp in the bed, or on the couch whilst he was out, and on the kitchen counter. The girl, he never bothered remembering their names, would run her fingers through Seb's short military cut, grabbing, pulling, and generally sticking the short locks in all directions as she squirmed under him. And damn it if Seb didn't entice the sluts to do it. He'd bend over them, resting his forehead on their forehead, or chest, or shoulder, and moan as they tugged, making sure they felt the pleasure of it as well. Yet Jim put up with he, allowed it, really, because it was in the privacy of the flat. Even though it wasn't Jim working his fingers through the dark hair, it was still within some bound of their silent accord.  
He made no move against the girls. Until Susan showed up.  
________________________________________  
She was pretty, by Sebastian's standards. Dark brunet hair, clear green eyes, and a petite, lithe body. She was a spitfire, that was certain.  
"Sebastian, let's go boxing!" She said, dancing up to him, her every movement screaming of classical training. Sebastian turned and grinned, spinning her into his arms.   
"Now? We just got back from the range." Not that he was complaining. This girl, this beautiful girl, loved anything violent; she begged to go to the firing range, the boxing cage, the martial art studio. It was like she didn't know what to do with herself if she wasn't gracefully gliding across a stage.  
She giggled and wrapped her arms around his torso.  
"Yes, now! I have so much energy! Let's just… let's go box. Please?" Very glad Jim wasn't around to witness this, Sebastian bent down to peck her lips. She knew he couldn't resist her when she gave him that look, and he was pretty sure his boss would not be very happy if he knew of the weakness.  
"Yeah," he chuckled, "let's go." He threw his jacket back on and followed her out the door.  
________________________________________  
A few fights were already in progress when they arrived at the dingy little building. Most of the people gathered recognized Sebastian; some nodded respectfully while the girls sighed with lust. A regular, Gerald Wincome, strode up to Sebastian and threw a punch. He dodged it with ease, bringing his own fist up to collide with the man's abdominals.  
"Heh, Sebastian," Gerald wheezed, laying a hand on his shoulder as he fought to regain his breath, "Nice to see you again, mate." Sebastian grinned and patted him on the back.  
"Is this your way of challenging me again, Gerry?" The man nodded and gestured to an open cage. The chatted amicably as they slipped gloves and mouth guards on; there was no reason for either of them to cause lasting damage today. Sophie stood to the side, her face beaming, as she watched her lover pummel Gerry to the ground. She glared at the other girls surrounding the cage as they cooed and sighed at Sebastian. She understood why they did, Sebastian was a very attractive fighter, after all, but she was a jealous woman. A man, standing next to her, spoke as she started to move towards the other women, intending to give them a piece of her mind.  
"He looks good with blood on him, doesn't he?" He said airily as he stared at Sebastian.  
"What?" She spun around, giving the man a long look. He was short and small, like her, with cropped brown hair and doey eyes. He looked too innocent to be here with his blue jeans and loose fitting shirt, his hair sticking up at all angels. He should be in a mental ward, she though.  
"Moran. He's very attractive. I wonder if he's taken…" He looked at her with watery eyes, a stupid grin on his face. Sophie spluttered.  
"He's not gay you moron," he giggled at that and started rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, "And he is taken."  
A roar went up from the crowd as Sebastian knocked out Gerald. He exited the cage with a bloody grin, breathing heavily. Sophie marched toward him, grabbed his face, and snogged him. He replied, placing one hand on her back, the other behind her head, and leaned into her. She moved her hands as well, twisting one into his dirtied shirt while the other wormed its way into his hair. He opened his lusty eyes as she started to gyrate against him, stiffening a bit when he saw the man Sophie had been talking to.  
Jim.  
His face was empty of all emotion as he watched Sebastian and the possessive girl, but his eyes were alight with fury. Someone was mussing Sebastian's hair, in public. He turned quickly, ignored the concerned look Sebastian was now giving him, and left the building.  
________________________________________  
The lovers walked out of the building several hours later, laughing at Gerald's grumbling.  
"Warn't fair, Seb. That's all I'm sayin'. Yer cheated somehow." Sebastian laughed and pounded him on the back, ignoring the little grunts of pain.  
"You weren't paying attention, Gerry. Had the same problem last time." Gerry grunted and stumbled away, muttering curses about Sebastian's upbringing. Sophie giggled and danced away from Sebastian, hailing a cab.  
"This has been wonderful, Sebbie! Let's do it again soon, yeah?" He followed after her and opened the cab door.  
"Yeah, Soph. Just give me a call. And…uh… be careful." She pecked him on the cheek and slid into the cab.  
"I'll do just that. Ta!"  
He froze as she drove off; the cabbie worked for Jim.  
________________________________________  
Sophie leaned back in her seat and sighed.  
"Carrington Street, please." The driver nodded and turned on the radio. It took her a few minutes to realize there were going the wrong way. She leaned forward and spoke to the cabbie.  
"We should be going east, idiot, not west. Turn around." He didn't respond, keeping his eyes on the road. "Oi! Are you listening? Turn. Around." His fist came back and smacked her nose. She squealed and shot back, suddenly stupid and afraid.  
"I'll be found, you know," she said behind her hand, "Sebastian will find me, and he'll kill you for touching me." He glanced at her in the rearview mirror.  
"I highly doubt that, ma'am." She looked away from him.  
The rest of the short car ride was silent; Sophie too afraid to speak and the cabbie to annoyed with her sniveling. They stopped in front of an old, crumbling apartment complex. The call girls roaming outside leered at Sophie as she followed the cabbie into the building and up the broken stairs. They climbed to the fifth floor, passing moaning rooms and shot up druggies in the hallway, and stopped outside the last door. The man at her side pushed her in as he opened the door. She gulped when the lock clicked behind her.  
"Now now, dear. There's no reason to be frightened," a voice called from the bedroom. She could hear a slight accent, Irish maybe, in the words. She started shivering. "Although I understand why. I did pick a rather dirty hovel, didn't I?" She made her way slowly to the bedroom, squeaking a bit when a woman screamed outside with pleasure. The voice giggled, "Don't mind them. They'll be dead soon. Disgusting little worms." The voice turned darker and more introspective as the owner spoke, like a posh businessman considering which employee to fire next.  
"Who are you?" She asked as she crossed the room's threshold. The man sat at a table, his fist on his cheek, and stared out a grimy window. He gestured to the chair opposite him.  
"Please sit, Sophie. We have much to discuss." She hesitated a moment before sitting. The man sighed and tilted his head to look at her. "You've been very naughty, Sophie," he said matter-of-factly.  
"What?" she breathed.  
"You're a jealous woman, and green doesn't look good on anyone." He sang the last word, turning to fully look at her. She recognized him then; the innocent gay man from the fights. He didn't look very innocent now as he sat in an expensive tailored suit and bore his eyes into hers. She startled. His eyes were dead.  
"Oh good," he crooned, a grin creeping its way onto his face, "You recognize me, then. I'm Jim." He waggled his fingers at her, giggling a little. "Do you know what you've done, dear?" His voice was back to that high lilt, sending little shivers of fear through her body.  
"N… no, Jim." She stuttered. The grin dropped from his face.  
"You touched something of mine. Something I've worked hard on. You defiled it." He spat at her, reigning his emotions back in at the last second. Her eyes widened; she could hear her heart pound in her ears. This man, sitting across the table, was not normal. He nearly oozed danger.  
"I'm sor… sorry. I'm ver….y sorry, Jim." He giggled again, a high, mad giggle.  
"You're not sorry yet, Sophie. But you will be." He gestured to someone behind her with a wave of his hand, suddenly looking very bored.  
"How do you think I should punish you?" She screamed as a rope was wrapped around her. Two men appeared and tied her hands to the table, wrapping more rope around her wrists and around the table legs. She started hyperventilating; she couldn't move. Jim grinned ferally and stood from his seat, walking somewhere out of her eyesight.  
"You seem to love doing things with your hands," he mused, "Shooting guns, fist fighting… playing with hair." He reappeared beside her with a large kitchen knife. Her stomach dropped.  
"Oh no… no… no… please, God, no." He giggled again as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, relishing in her panic.  
"No God here!" He sang again, looking back down at her. He let the smile drop again, suddenly going serious. "Now, this is going to hurt. But it's the only way you people learn." He tutted, shaking his head, before slamming the blade down and severing the fingers off her right hand, just above the metacarpals.  
________________________________________  
Sebastian was jolted awake by someone jumping on the bed. He groaned and shoved the perpetrator's feet out from under them, earning himself a smack on the head for doing so.  
"Sebbie, wake up!" Jim yelled in his ear, entirely too excited for three thirty in the morning. He cracked an eye open and stared at his employer.  
"What? Can't it wait a few more hours?" Jim pouted a bit and threw a small package onto his chest.  
"No, did you forget what today is?"  
"Annoy the fuck out of your sniper?"  
"Nope!" Jim grinned and leaned down to kiss Sebastian's cheek. "It's the anniversary of your first kill for me!" He bounced out of the room then, sending a quick 'enjoy your present!' behind him.  
Sebastian sighed and sat up, catching the gift before it fell. He looked it over quickly before ripping the paper off and removing the box's lid. He paused for a minute, staring at the contents, before carefully replacing the lid and setting it on the side table. He sighed and rubbed his face.  
"Did you have to cut off her fingers for messing with my hair, Jim?" He yelled, knowing Jim would hear him. He earned a demented giggle as a reply.


	5. The Woman

Sebastian was beyond frustrated.  He had tried everything to keep a woman in his life for longer than a month, hell, longer than a week.  He’d signed up for Internet dating, agreed to long distance, living with them, even letting them move in.  Nothing helped; they all vanished after varying amounts of time.  Oh sure, he _knew_ what happened to most of them.  It was rather obvious, after all.  Death and dismemberment had a bad habit of following the cause; James Moriarty.  All f _ourteen_ of Sebastian’s attempts at semi-normal relationships had been sabotaged by that impossible man.  He saw it as a game, Sebastian was sure of it.  And there’s only one thing to do when you keep losing a game; change how you play.

He started out slow; only going to pubs when he _knew_ Jim was busy and wouldn’t tail him directly.  He’d pick out a girl, or two, pay off the lackey following him, and spend the night in a hotel.  He never stayed long enough to be missed, the sun just peaking over the cramped streets of London as the room’s door would snick shut behind him.  Sebastian kept this up for a few months, picking up somewhat respectable women once or twice every two weeks.  Jim never mentioned the nights out, regardless of lesser minions tattling, so Sebastian decided to get bold.

“I’m heading out, sir.  I’ll be back in the morning.”  There was no reply from the skinny man lounging on the couch.  Sebastian shrugged and threw on his coat, letting the door slam shut behind him.  Dark purples and oranges lined the evening sky as he walked down the street.  The sounds of _life_ washed over him; whistles and calls for cabs, a baby crying, a young couple arguing in the street.  It was strange.  These people went about their lives, glancing over Sebastian like he was just another one of them, never realizing he was the reason they were terrified of the night.  He wondered what they saw when looking at the world around them.  Did they see the way the boyfriend’s back tensed, ready but restraining himself from punching the girl, or how easy it would be to‘trip’ and silence the wailing child without the mother knowing?  Did they see the way the cabbie eyed Sebastian, instantly recognizing him as Moran, the brick wall standing between every army in the world and Moriarty?  Could they see the darkness in him as they swept their eyes past?  That small spark of madness anyone would need to deal with James Moriarty on a daily basis?

He stepped into Dray’s Pub and glanced around, quickly spotting two of Jim’s men.  He ignored them and took a seat at the bar.

“Vodka. Micro brew, too, if you have it.” The bartender nodded, pouring out a shot of the liquor and setting a bottle of local beer on the counter.  A light tap came on his shoulder.  He turned, giving the redhead a quick once over, and grinned.

“Well hello.”

“Hey.”  Her lips curved up flirtatiously, inviting him in.  “Amy.”  Painted eyelashes fluttered as she leaned forward; Sebastian saw more than enough with a quick glance down.

“David.”  He stood from the stool gracefully, the epitome of a tiger slowly drawing a shy bunny closer to its teeth.  “Why don’t we go somewhere more private, Amy?”  The sparkly shirt rose just enough to show her stomach as she giggled and took his offered hand.  He led her up the stairs, neatly hidden at the end of a long hallway lined with bathroom doors and closets, and into a dark room.

She pressed into him as the door closed.

“Tell me about him,” she breathed as he bent down to kiss her neck.  A hazy grin crept onto his face; she wanted him to _describe_ his more private parts before they got down to business? She _was_ a dirty one.

“Why not meet him? Hmm?”  He bit down just under her collar bone, drawing a strangled whimper from her.

“Is that really possible?”  Her knees went weak as he pressed into her, mouth working at the nape of her neck.

“Of course.” The springs squeaked as they tipped onto the bed, Sebastian grinding down.

“Oh, _Jim_!”  He froze and slowly pushed up to look her in the eye.

“ _What_?”  Her giggle was full of sex and amusement.  She leaned up to kiss down his chest, ghosting over scars and grabbing at his trousers.  Light flashed across her face as a car used the overpass; her eyes were wide and half crazed as she grinned up at him.

“I know you work for him.  I have my own connections,” another grab at him, “What is it like? Being close to him?”  A strange groan, high and wanting, burst from her lips.  She arched her back in self-driven ecstasy. “What’s it like to _touch_ him? Oh God, David! David?”  She leaned back on her elbows and frowned at him; Sebastian was slowly buttoning his shirt, glancing up at her with an expressionless face.

“How.”  She smiled, trying at seduction, and threw her head back, flippantly answering.

“He personally helped me with a little something a few years ago.  I’ve been looking for him for a _long_ time, Sebastian Moran.”  She accented each syllable of his name with what would have been a rather attractive, groin pulse inducing tone had the situation been different.  “You’re the only one that can bring me to him. _Please_ ,” a well manicured hand was on his crotch again, squeezing and rubbing him.  He snarled and pushed her away.

“No one gets to him.  Not while I’m around.”  His elbow slammed into her throat, nearly crushing it.  She fell, eyes wide and mouth held open in a small ‘O’, and grabbed at the injured area.  Sebastian, with black eyes and a blacker heart, grinned and hit her windpipe again; it gave way, cutting off the whore’s oxygen supply.  His phone lit up with a text as Amy slowly suffocated.

 

_Tea and Oreos. Now._

“I’ll never understand your fascination with Oreos, boss,” he sighed and muttered to himself, slipping out of the pub unnoticed.

* * *

                A pleasant surprise greeted Sebastian a few weeks later.  An impeccably well dressed woman slid up to him on the sidewalk.  Soft hands gently grabbed his arm and slipped a small paper into his pocket as she whispered into his ear,

“Bientôt, Tigre.” 

He grinned and turned, capturing her surprised lips in a fierce kiss.

“Oui, mon cheri.”  He glanced at the paper as she stepped around the corner.

 

_The Woman_

_44 East, Dummox Rd_

 

He laughed, recognizing the address from somewhere, probably when researching flats, and started walking the few blocks to Dummox.  A brunette answered the door when he knocked, looked him over with a sultry smile, and showed him into a sitting room.

“Please wait here.  She’ll appear shortly.”  With a wink and a hair flip, the pretty woman exited the large room.  He looked around. The Woman was obviously well off; expensive cream sofas and chairs, dark hickory tables and book cases, and beautiful hardwood floors could only mean she made her living making men, and possibly women, very happy.  Heels clacked in the hallway as he inspected the drapery (imported silk from some far-away country).

“Like what you see?”  He grinned, eying her long, tight dress.  It hugged her body just right, sending almost painful signals down his body.

“Beautiful.”  She smiled at his words and held her hand out.

“Please, let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”  She led him through the hallway, up the stairs, down another corridor, and into another elegant room.  She pressed him against the wall, whispering into his mouth, “Clothes off, on the bed.”  He groaned as she sucked on his lip, working his shirt open.  She turned, walking into the bathroom.  “Be ready by the time I come back.”  He grinned.

“Or what?”  She quirked an eyebrow.

“Or you’ll be punished.”

He was stark naked and laying face up when she re-emerged.

“ _Good_. Hands up, love. Over your head. That’s a good boy.”  The cold metal of handcuffs were on his wrists, securing him to the headboard, before he could react.  “Oh don’t worry.  I’m not going to hurt you.  Or steal.  This is for someone else.”  His snarled reply caught in his throat as another figure stepped out of the bathroom.

“Sebbie, Sebbie, Sebbie,”  Jim tutted, oscillating his head, “I thought it was rather obvious two months ago that you aren’t allowed to _frolic_.  Now look where you’ve found yourself.”  He stood beside the bed, looming over Sebastian, and looked at his nakedness with disgust.  “Do you really _enjoy_ being a whore?”  Jim shrugged, tilting his head to glare at Sebastian.  “No matter. This ends. _Now_.”

“Yes, sir....” Sebastian couldn’t help but feel a bit surprised; this was a pretty mild compared to what he had expected his boss to do.  He jangled the restraints again.

“Oh yes, that’s right.”  His stomach dropped when Jim turned to The Woman and smiled.  “You renovated as I suggested, Miss Adler? _Good_.”  

“ _Adler_? _Irene_ _Adler_?” He gaped at her, “ _You’re_ Irene? Fucking...”  Jim’s smile turned gleeful.

“Yes, Sebbie! I employ her!”  He sing-songed and _skipped_ to the other side of the room, pressing the button.  The walls slowly sank into the floor, revealing the clearest windows Sebastian ever had the misfortune to see.  “Come, Irene.  There’s a man I wish to speak with you about. Bye bye, Sebbie!”  The two walked out of the room, leaving Sebastian chained to the bed.

“ _What?_ ”  Jim poked his head in again, giving the poor sniper a high giggle.

“You’re perfectly capable of picking those locks, _Sebastian_.  Get to it.  I hear school lets out in a few minutes.”  The whistled tune of _Staying Alive_ reverberated down the hallway and into the fully exposed room as Jim walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Here's the last one! I'm glad so many of you have enjoyed this! I may post other little things as I go through my folders. If there's something specific you'd like a drabble of, you can send me a message here or at successorofcain on Tumblr :3_


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